


To Take Away Your Pain

by Musetta



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Scisaac - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musetta/pseuds/Musetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps not the earliest, but certainly the most important life lesson Isaac Lahey learned growing up, was that he simply wasn't important. At least, until Scott brought him back from the brink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Take Away Your Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Just a brief outpouring of Scisaac feelings.

Perhaps not the earliest, but certainly the most important life lesson Isaac Lahey learned growing up, was that he simply wasn't important. 

After all, that was what they always seemed to teach in school.   
You're special.  
You're important.   
You _matter_. 

After accepting that these were all lies, at least for him, Isaac's life got just a little easier. It was empowering, in a way. It was enough to keep him going. It made the endless hours locked in the suffocating dark somehow bearable. 

He remembered the moment it happened distinctly. He was nine. His father had walked in on him desperately trying to clean up a massive spill after dropping the milk jug. A kick to the ribs, a cuff across the face, a few shoves and an armful of insults later, he was listening in horror to the sound of a deadbolt clicking shut from the other side of a meat freezer. It was the third time that this happened. The third time Isaac curled up into a tiny ball, sobbing in hysterics, fighting the primal, screaming urge to beat his fists bloody against the walls in a hopeless attempt at escape. His body throbbed from the pain his father inflicted. The darkness was seeping into his pores. The walls were closing in. All the while, the same stammering question flashed through his mind. 

_Why is this happening to me? I'm supposed to be special..._

That fluttering thought grew steadily weaker as the long hour crawled by. At some point during that night, the notion quietly laid down and died.  
And after that, things got better. Just a little bit. After all, good boys didn't walk through the halls with their heads hung low so nobody would ask him about his black eye. Good boys and girls didn't get locked in meat freezers. So... it was okay. Sort of. The insults his father threw at him slowly began to make sense. He didn't try to argue when he was called worthless. He didn't fight. 

And then, one day there were no more insults.   
No more attacks.   
No more suffocating dark. 

It didn't matter at that point, of course. It had gone on for so long that even as he smiled and laughed and ran with his new body and abilities, the truth inside of him didn't change. He had gone from being his father's chew toy to Derek's pawn. Only now, things were... quieter. His house was empty, and often very dark. With his new sense of hearing, Isaac was so acutely aware of every creak and groan and sound that made him jump as he was making dinner. He would find himself waking up at night with a quiet seize of terror, thinking that he had heard his father's drunken footsteps walking down the hall to his bedroom. It would only be after he realized that his claws had shredded his bedsheets on reflex that he had only heard the sound of a jogger outside. 

He didn't tell anyone, of course. He liked having Boyd and Erica as his friends, and he didn't want to bother them with his moments of pitiful weakness. His fear didn't matter. No matter how much his body might change, no matter how bright his mask of happiness shone during the day, always he was careful to remember. 

It was for this reason, Scott's words left him so unarmed. 

_I don't want you getting hurt._

Isaac remembered standing in the club, gawking at Scott like a bit of an idiot after he said that. After all, it struck him as bizarre, as if he had suddenly slipped into a different language. Did he not want Isaac getting hurt because it would endanger the mission? No, that wasn't it... Isaac realized with a keen sense of embarrassment, that he simply couldn't remember the last time someone had said something like that to him. Sure, there was the occasional quip from Coach along the lines of "I don't want you getting hurt before you can get us ahead of the opposing team, Lahey!" But never with any sort of real sincerity. Isaac had been enraged but certainly not surprised when Derek broke his arm on a whim. Isaac got hurt, people hurt him. At this point in his life, he accepted that with the same sort of indifference as "The world gets wet when the rain falls."

That was the first time Isaac really looked at Scott, the once-loser now-popular boy with the big brown eyes. The one who wasn't laughing at his confusion with derision. Who was calmly returning his gaze, as if it meant the world to him that Isaac acknowledge this fact. There was someone out there who cared if he lived or died. And not just as a tool, or a convenience. But as himself. 

But after that, things changed for Isaac. He found himself trailing after Scott in the hallways, starting a conversation over and over only ever in his mind. Then, the bell would ring, informing him he was late for class. He'd notice himself quietly sulking in Chemistry, watching Scott passing notes and talking and joking with Stiles. When he wasn't, he followed the usual routine of mooning over Allison. With a strange, clawing sensation in his gut, Isaac privately accepted that he would have given anything to be in either Stiles _or_ Allison's shoes. Just... to be someone who could freely bask in the warmth of Scott's existence. To be someone he adored. In retrospect, it was probably harder than it should have been. After all, Isaac should have known that Scott wouldn't be someone to reject and turn away someone who was looking for... what, friendship? Validation? An explanation? Pouring your uncertain heart out to someone just wasn't something you _did_ in high-school. Besides, Isaac had already tried that once with Lydia. The result of that brief bout of courage was one of the most embarrassing days he could ever remember. Besides, there were less frightening things to take on at the moment; such as a clan of murderous hunters and a vicious lizard-beast.

Whatever his feelings were, they were put on hold for a while out of necessity. There were bigger things to worry about, once plans were put in motion.   
By the end of the school year, things had finally managed to quiet down. 

Jackson was purified of his curse through the virtue of his "true" name, and the Hunters disarmed of their most powerful weapon. For now, they retreated under the guise of a family vacation to Europe for the Summer. In the thick of the fighting, Peter Hale retreated, perhaps to gather strength. Derek told them that it was not a victory, simply a calm between the battles of a long war. But for the young, it was hard not to take the win in stride. For most of them, anyway. 

It was the final lacrosse practice of the season  
Isaac had stayed behind to bring the goals in for Coach, and because of this he was the last one to return to the locker room. The place was empty, save for one heartbeat. One distinct smell. Isaac's heart thudded.   
Scott McCall was here.  
Alone.

"Scott?" He called out warily, removing his gloves.   
"Hey..." He answered thickly. Isaac rounded a row of lockers to see him sitting on a bench, staring dejectedly at his cell phone. Isaac leaned against the lockers, doing his best to appear nonchalant.   
"... Allison?" He guessed.   
Scott nodded, almost imperceptibly. Isaac fumbled a little, trying not to get distracted by the waves of misery and rage radiating off of Scott, where there was usually only warmth and love.

"She said... well, I guess it had been coming. But I just..." Scott shook his head. Perhaps it was a pack thing, but Isaac could sense it clearly. The rage inside of him welling up like a volcano, bubbling over in a fit of violent anger. Scott roared in frustration, hurling the phone across the locker room. Upon hitting the wall the thing damn near exploded, cracking the plaster. Tears were glistening in Scott's eyes as he turned on the spot, clearly resisting the urge to start mauling the lockers next. 

"Why is this happening?" He snarled at Isaac, his eyes burning gold. Isaac took a step back, his arms on reflex raised to cover his torso and face. Scott didn't charge at him though, or channel his anger to the passive victim. Instead he simply... deflated. He exhaled all of his rage and anger and passion, leaving himself an empty husk.

"What we had, it was supposed to be... special."   
That moment was the breaking point. The slight waver of hopelessness in his voice, the outward sigh of defeat.   
In an instant, Isaac was beside Scott, grasping his forearm. His chest very close against Scott's back, but it was all that he could do to keep from wrapping his arms around Scott and holding him as if he could somehow shield him from the world. 

"Come back to my place. I'll... make you some tea."

-

He was surprised Scott agreed to come. Maybe Scott knew that if he was left alone right now he'd probably just start wrecking things again. Isaac had brewed the special tea blend given to him by Dr. Deaton. Supposedly, it had a calming agent that could be used to bring them back from moments of uncontrollable rage. But Scott didn't touch his. Scott. The boy who didn't want him to get hurt. The one who was hurting so badly Isaac could practically see his heart breaking. 

"We're over." Scott said dully, his arms crossed tight.  
Isaac listened quietly, choosing not to add that technically Scott and Allison had not been together for months now. Whatever she had said on that text message, it must have been pretty powerful to finally make him believe it.   
"How... what, do I do?" Scott looked up at Isaac. His big, beautiful eyes were open wounds.   
"I don't know." 

Isaac's hand moved across the table. His two fingers brushed Scott's forearm, tracing the path of his vein. 

"I guess... one day at a time. That sort of thing." His hand slid around Scott's wrist, squeezing it tight. Scott's lips quirked into the shadow of a smile.   
"What are you doing?" He almost laughed, looking at the expression of concentration on Isaac's face. He blinked, hoping that his cheeks weren't as pink as they felt at the moment.   
"Trying to take some of your pain." Isaac admitted. "I've been practicing. I've gotten pretty good at it too." His stomach twisted. He had been hoping to do it without Scott noticing...  
"I don't think it works that way." Scott laughed in a quiet, kind sort of way. After all, it wasn't a physical pain. Just... heartache.   
"No?" Isaac moved to release Scott's hand.   
"No, I think it's more... like this." His palm pressed against Isaac's, their fingers slowly intertwining. For he first time, Scott's smile seemed to be closer to his usual expression of joy. There was still such a long way to go, but now it was clear that he was fighting his way to the surface, instead of simply letting himself drown.  
"Yeah. That feels better." Scott gave Isaac's hand a brief squeeze. 

Isaac didn't know what this was. If it was the start of something, or just another brief moment in Scott's extraordinary life where he changed someone's view of the world. But Isaac couldn't help but believe it was the former. That he was being let in, just as Stiles and Allison were let in. That he was taking Scott's pain away, just a little bit at a time. 

And just maybe, the hope that one day Isaac might just become someone special to him.


End file.
